Saturday, April 10, 2010


 Avon river, Bath UK,
August, 2009

When distress calls from low cloud skies, the troubadour's music somehow filters through in beams of light, which turns sadness upside down.  He assumes his role through the caring kindness of others, through their concern for my well being.   I hear his songs of love resting in the lyrics of their encouragement, in the words of their own stories, in the hugs I have fallen into,  in the smiles they freely share, in their own moist eyes which seem to appear when their own memories are plucked  and in their brilliant laughter when I offer up an absurdist perspective.  This healing minstrel plays through the feelings and actions of others. 

He comes from an ancient past and travels with the apparitions of ancestors who provide reflective moments and gifts to explore.  Remember this, he sings.  Listen to this he suggests.  Fill your senses with these, he encourages.  Come lets share a cup of tea.  He takes me back into the past,  but seems to carry me as I try to remain in the present moment.  Shards of memories which easily can pierce my soulflesh seem to be easier to explore when it is accompanied by his strumming.   Grateful to be awash with inspiration rather than always grief, I come to the end of this day tired but safe...... alone but loved.  His comfort allows me to step into discomfort because he helps me pace my growth with his grace notes.

Today, I was given a gift from a friend..... when I unwrapped it and saw that it was a beautiful ornate gold cross, I was so taken aback that I sat speechless, until my tears sprang up in the silence and I heard the music of the troubadour.  Then, when my friend told me the story behind how he had been given it and why,  and how far it has travelled only to find a place in my own hands, I was touched beyond words. thank you Charles. It is lovely, lovely..... and it will accompany me wherever I go.  Just like my troubadour of love.  


Selma said...

That is beautiful. I am glad you are much loved!

Twain12 said...

How lovely, sometimes the smallest gestures can make things so much better

awareness said...

Selma.... I am learning lessons everyday about kindness and empathy. It overwhelms me. It was weird. I woke up and had the word "troubadour" in my head and it stayed with me all day..... I envisioned this "troubadour" kind of like a pied piper with ghost following him..... apparitions that were familiar. This is what I wanted to write about. I had considered a poem, or something akin to song lyrics. Instead, I sat down and googled the word Troubadour and learned a lot..... What I realized/recognized is that he is tied to St. Francis of Assisi and is known for his songs of love. And it seemed to me that this mystic man from SO LONG AGO was generating songs of love through the people who have showered me with concern and care. I then heard his music.... It was there all along. :)

awareness said...

Twain.... I can't even begin to list the small gestures and the large ones which have allowed me to feel human and whole. Though I know, like you do that no one can truly take the pain away....... we have to deal with that on our own strength, with time, the gestures have filled me with a buoyancy to keep my head above water, to laugh, to feel all that I am feeling knowing that it too will pass.
Let me know when you'd like to have a stroll. :)

Jen said...

Wow. This is just beautiful, Dana. It makes me want to reach out and be loved more. I tend to isolate myself when I'm hurting, which robs my friends of the blessing of giving.

Thanks for sharing this.